


Closer Than a Brother

by DizzyDrea



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010), James Bond (Movies)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Light Angst, Secret Identity, Secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-18
Updated: 2015-05-18
Packaged: 2018-03-31 05:22:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3965947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DizzyDrea/pseuds/DizzyDrea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Danny Williams has a secret: a life and an identity that no one in Hawai'i knows about. But when a nasty case from his present collides spectacularly with his past, his secret's out and he has to deal with the ramifications.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Closer Than a Brother

**Author's Note:**

> I started this story a long time ago and never finished it. I love reading stories where Danny is more than he appears, because BAMF!Danny is all kinds of sexy. Of course, this was started well before we found out much about Danny's past, so it's pretty-well Jossed at this point. But, one of my New Year's resolutions this year is to finish some of the stories hanging around in my WIP folder. This was one of those, completed and polished and ready for posting. Seeing the guys running around in tuxedos saving the day in the Season 5 finale _A Make Kaua_ is what finally pushed me to post. (Just FYI - there are NO spoilers for that episode in this story, just in case you haven't seen it.)
> 
> Disclaimer: Hawaii 5-0 and all its particulars is the property of Peter M. Lenkov, Alex Kurtzman, Roberto Orci, K/O Paper Products, CBS Productions and a lot of other people who aren't me. James Bond at all its particulars is the property of Ian Flemming, Albert and Barbara Broccoli, MGM, Eon Productions and a lot of other people who aren't me. I'm doing this for fun and for practice. Mostly for fun.

~o~

"Chin, what have we got?"

Commander Steve McGarrett practically barks the words as he charges through the doors into 5-0 headquarters. Detective Danny Williams follows him at a slightly more sedate pace, casting an apologetic glance over Steve's shoulder in the direction of their colleagues. Though, what he's got to be sorry for, he isn't sure. Certainly not the Neanderthal he sometimes refers to as his partner.

"No new bodies," Chin Ho Kelly says. If he's at all bothered by Steve's abrasive attitude, he isn't showing it.

"Well, that's good news, at least."

That's Kono Kalakaua, their fourth and arguably the most optimistic of the four of them. Of course, they could be forgiven for not feeling in the least like sunshine and roses today. The bodies had started dropping before dawn, and while they were up to five now, Danny wasn't confident that they'd seen the end of it.

"Did we get anything off the security cameras at the last scene?" Steve asks.

"We got a license plate," Chin says. He strokes his fingers across the table in front of him, and the picture—grainy though it is—pops up. The guy's got his back to the camera, but his license plate is plain to see. "It's a rental, no surprise there. The name on the agreement is Paul Smith."

Steve snorts, but it's Danny who says what everyone's thinking. "What are the chances that's not an alias?"

Chin's withering look isn't encouraging.

"Passenger manifest says he arrived yesterday," Chin says, flipping more data onto their screens. "From LAX via Caracas."

The map he's just displayed looks an awful lot like someone tried to play connect-the-dots.

"This guy gets around," Danny says.

Steve snorts, then asks, "Do we have a picture?"

"Airport security caught him deplaning," Chin says. Another swipe and the picture pops up on the center screen.

Danny feels it as every shred of color drains out of his face. "What the bloody hell is he doing here?"

There's dead silence in the room, but Danny's oblivious. He's staring at something he knows can't be right. And yet, it's right there in front of him. The name might be different, but there's no mistaking the man walking off the plane.

He shakes his head, running a hand over his face. "Bugger."

It's then that he realizes that three sets of eyes are staring at him, not the picture on the screen. He frowns, wondering what they're looking at, when it hits him.

In fifteen years of living and working amongst Americans, he hadn't slipped up once. But put a blast from his ancient past in front of him and apparently his brain to mouth filter dies a quick death and Her Majesty's English leaps from his tongue like a coiled serpent spying its next meal.

"Shit."

Steve raises an eyebrow, arms crossed over his chest. Chin's looking at him like he's an interesting specimen under a microscope, and Kono… Well, Kono's just grinning.

"Care to share with the class?" she asks.

Danny opens his mouth, but whatever he'd planned on saying is short-circuited by Steve's next words.

"Whatever bullshit excuse you were about to give, can it. We've got a gun runner to catch." 

Danny thinks maybe he'll get away without having to explain, that they'll be too distracted by chasing down their perp for Steve to remember this little moment. But this is Steve McGarrett; of course he won't forget, as his next words more than amply demonstrate.

"We're talking about this later," Steve says, pointing at him.

Danny raises his hands in surrender. "Fine. Can we focus on catching the dirtbag of the week now?"

And now they're all looking at him like he's grown another head. One little slip-up and suddenly every word out of his mouth is going to be scrutinized like counterfeit currency. Danny's contemplating whether or not the windows open this high up in the building, and whether or not he can safely scale down the façade (wouldn't be the first time he'd escaped that way, but obviously it's not his preference, as evidenced by the bad knee he's always passed off as an old sports injury—if by sports you mean dangling off a skyscraper in pursuit of an international terrorist) when he feels everyone's eyes on him yet again.

"What?"

"You obviously know this guy," Steve says. 

There's a thread of impatience in his voice that raises Danny's hackles; he tries to tamp it down. Yes, he's got a past he'd have rather kept in the past, but it's his own damned fault for giving it all away. 

He huffs, hitches his hands on his hips, purposefully thickening his Jersey accent in an effort to keep his mind in the present. "Okay, yeah, I know the guy. His name's Johannes Steckler and he's former South African Special Forces. After he left The Recces, he did some mercenary work, mostly security work, contract jobs for various multinationals. Which is where we believe he made the contacts he needed to start running guns."

"We?" Steve asks.

Danny crosses his arms over his chest and levels his best glare on his partner, the one that's reduced mere field agents to quivering piles of goo in mere seconds. Unfortunately, it does little to budge the Super SEAL.

Not that Danny cares right about now.

"Yes, _we_." When Steve still won't stop glaring, Danny drops his chin to his chest. "We, as in, the _we_ that I used to work for, before I came here. As in, the _we_ that deals with dirtbags like him so you don't have to. As in, the _we_ that you aren't even supposed to know about. That _we_."

His voice, which had started out even and quiet, had risen in pitch until he was shouting at the very end. Not unusual for the man he is now, but he can't help feeling just a little guilty at the kicked-puppy look he's getting from Steve.

But he's not going to let that bother him. He's not. 

The silence stretches out as Danny and Steve continue to stare at each other. Danny knows that he's broken about a dozen laws even saying what he's said. These people matter to him, so if keeping his mouth shut will protect them even a little, then they're not getting another damned word out of him. 

"So, how do we find this guy?" Kono asks quietly into the tense silence.

And that's when Danny knows he's royally fucked. Because there isn't anything he won't do for his friends, and because having Steckler on this island, anywhere near his daughter, sits between his shoulder blades like an itch he can't scratch.

"There's only two things Steckler loves in this world," he says, looking straight at Steve. He hopes his partner gets that it's costing him to do this, but he can't be sure because the man's face is shuttered, locked up tight. "One is his H&K MP7 and the other is—"

"His mother?"

Danny glares at Steve for the space of a heartbeat before continuing. "And the other is beautiful women. The more exotic the better."

"So, either he's at a gun show or a bar," Chin says, and the joke isn't particularly funny, but Danny still has to fight the smile that threatens to break out.

"Okay, you two put together a list of bars he might go to," Steve says, pointing to Danny and Chin. "Kono, see if you can dig up a hotel reservation. If we're lucky, he'll take his next conquest back to his room."

And with that, Steve turns and marches out of the room, back straight and anger in every line of his body. Danny's just glad the doors are glass; that way Steve won't be able to slam them behind him.

Danny turns back to Chin and Kono to find two pairs of curious eyes staring at him. Before they can even think about badgering him for information, he holds up his hand.

"First, we catch this son-of-a-bitch. Then I'm going to explain a few things to Steve. After that, if you still have questions, I give you leave to ask. Deal?"

"Fair enough," Chin says, and Kono's nodding beside him.

Danny looks between them. There's curiosity there, and a sort of wariness that hasn't been seen since those first days, when they were still trying to find their way around each other. After the years they've spent together chasing down the bad guys and keeping their island safe, it's a blow to his heart to find that his friends suddenly aren't sure if they can trust him. But some of that is his own fault, he knows. 

He's been under for too long; these people have started to matter to him, and he knows that's when mistakes are made. He's not some wet-behind-the-ears junior agent on his first assignment, but he'd made the ultimate rookie mistake all the same. But, that's a problem for another day. Catching Steckler is job-one, and until he's safely inside a Hawai'ian jail, everything else has to take a back seat.

Squaring his shoulders, he looks at the information they have on their suspect.

"Fine. Good. Now, this guy's got standards, so he's looking for a particular kind of place."

~o~

Danny makes his way up the walk to Steve's house, feet dragging despite the fact that he knows he owes the man inside an explanation. He owes the man a whole lot more than that, in point of fact, but he'll start with the explanation and go from there.

He'd never expected to learn to respect Steve McGarrett as much as he does, much less like the man and find that it matters what he thinks of Danny. Despite having grown up on an island, his hatred of Hawai'i isn't a put-on. It's too hot, too muggy, too wet, and too full of the kinds of tourists that make life a living hell on a good day. But meeting Steve that day in his garage and standing beside him as they searched for his father's killer has shifted his perspective on the island and the friends he's made on it. 

And he knows that's dangerous, for him and for them, but he hadn't really realized until today that he's so far gone. Tanner and M would have his hide if they knew, but it's not like they couldn't have seen this coming. He's been expecting to be recalled at any moment, and is more than shocked that it hasn't happened. Though, given the events of today, maybe he should pack his bags, just in case.

Danny takes a deep breath and knocks on the door. He can't hear anything inside, which doesn't mean much. Steve's truck is parked outside, but the engine's cooled off so he's been home a while. He could be out running, or swimming the stretch of ocean that fronts his house. 

Or he could just be hiding. 

Danny snorts, turning the knob on the door and finding it unlocked. He pushes in and heads for the lanai. Steve wanted answers, he's going to get answers, even if he's trying to delay them or holding the worlds saddest pity party. Danny will chase him all over this pineapple-infested hell-hole if that's what it takes. He doesn't want to lose a friendship that's become important to him, though he's not sure he really has a choice in the matter.

One thing at a time, though. First, explanations.

He spots McGarrett sitting on the lanai, sulking. That's the only word for it. He's sulking, like his world just imploded and life no longer makes sense. And maybe that's true, but it's not the SEAL he knows. Danny crosses his arms over his chest, adopting his most sheepish look, trying to make himself as non-threatening as possible.

"You look like your dog just died."

Steve doesn't jump. He's a SEAL, for pity's sake, but it's a close thing, Danny can tell. When he turns around, Steve is frowning.

"I knocked," he says, shrugging. He did knock. "When you didn't answer, I just let myself in."

Steve sighs. He looks like his head hasn't stopped spinning since Danny outed himself at 5-0 earlier. He can see the questions swirling around behind his eyes, along with a healthy dose of betrayal and some confusion, just to add interest. 

"I owe you an explanation," Danny says. He crosses to the table where it looks like Steve's been nursing a beer for a while, leans down and grasps the back of the chair across from his. "I'm breaking mission protocol even coming here, but you deserve an explanation."

"Stop," Steve says. Danny winces at the hostility in that tone, but he gets it, he does. He's not going to push, because that'll likely get him punched, and that's the one thing he doesn't need to get out of this conversation. "Get yourself a beer. Then we'll talk."

Danny does ask requested, returning to sit in the chair across from Steve's. He takes a few long swallows of the beer, then spins the bottle in his hands as he starts his tale.

"You have to understand—"

"Wait," Steve says, holding up a hand. Danny frowns in confusion. "Drop the act. I want to hear this from the real Danny Williams. God, is that even your name?"

"What?" Danny says in his best Jersey outrage, and it's not a put-on. "Is it— _of course_ it's my name. Why wouldn't it be my name?" 

Steve just gives him a hard glare and he wilts a little. "Yes, that really is my name."

And just like that, Jersey is gone, and in its place are the lilting tones of a proper British accent that just sounds all kinds of wrong coming out of Danny's mouth. He's not used to hearing it anymore, and now that he's not putting it on, he feels uncomfortable in his own skin.

"Okay, so we've established that you're really Danny Williams, but obviously you're not from New Jersey."

"Obviously," Danny says with a roll of his eyes, which comes out a little more like _obvsly_ with the posh accent massaging the syllables. It must be the right thing to say, because he can see Steve unclench a little. Danny breathes easier at that. If he can convince his friend that he's the same man he always was, this'll go a lot easier.

He leans back in his chair and takes another sip, gesturing for his friend to continue.

"I work for Her Majesty's Secret Service," Danny says, all clipped and matter-of-fact, "what you Yanks would call MI6."

"How long?" Steve asks. 

Danny's reluctant to put a date on it, because he knows the can of worms that'll open up, but he's promised honesty and that's what he's prepared to deliver.

"I was a Lieutenant in the SAS when Her Majesty came calling, perhaps two years out of Sandhurst. I was twenty-five, I think."

Steve nods, like it lines up with what he'd already guessed. "And why are you here?"

"In Hawai'i? Or in America?" Steve throws him a glare and Danny holds up his hands. "I'm not being deliberately obtuse. Just, do you want the whole story, or only the parts that explain why I'm on this island?"

Steve's eyebrows race for his hairline. "You'd tell me the whole thing? But won't that 'break protocol'?"

"Yes, well, in for a penny, in for a pound, as we say," Danny says with a wince.

"Yeah," Steve huffs out. He takes another sip, but seems startled that he's finished off the beer without realizing. He tips his empty bottle at Danny. "Another?"

Danny lifts his bottle to peer at the contents, then chugs down the last couple of swallows before handing over the empty bottle. "Sure, why not?"

Steve grabs two more beers, popping the tops and handing Danny's over the table. "So, you were recruited out of the army."

"I was recruited out of the army," Danny says, nodding. He hasn't thought about this story in years, mostly because there's pain attached to it, but he also knows that if there's anyone alive who'd understand it's Steve. "They look for a certain type in the Service, and I fit well. Fastest from probationary agent to 00 in a generation."

"Wait, that's real? The James Bond thing is real?"

Steve looks shocked, like he hadn't expected that. "James bloody Bond isn't real, but where do you think Ian Flemming got his information?"

"Huh," Steve says, shaking his head. "So, you're 007, License to Kill?"

"Good god," Danny says, rubbing his hands over his face. Steve's idiotic grin isn't helping. "I am not, in point of fact, 007. That designation was retired ages ago. I am, however, a senior-level operative with the authority to go off-book when necessary. I work independently and only call in back-up when I can't go it alone."

"So, what are you doing here?" Steve asks. He's leaning forward, rapt, like Danny's telling a bedtime story and he can't wait to find out how it ends. He reminds Danny so much of Grace in that moment that he has to fight back a grin.

"I was seconded to the CIA to work on a terrorism task force," Danny says. "There was some concern regarding potential infiltration into the New York Police Department, so I was sent to pose as a Detective and investigate."

"And Rachel and Grace?"

Danny ghosts a smile. He takes a sip of his beer, his gaze drifting off to the distance as he remembers those early days. "Rachel and I met exactly how I told you we did. I married her because I fell in love, as idiotic as it sounds. She didn't know who I really was at the time."

"Is that why you two divorced?" Steve asks, in a startling bit of insight.

"Yes," Danny says, sighing as he rubs a hand over his face. "She didn't appreciate being lied to, and I can't say I blame her. It was foolish of me to marry her, but I did it anyway, and I can't regret it, not even for a moment, because that one foolish decision gave me Grace." 

Danny pauses, a smile ghosting his lips at the thought of his daughter. "She knows, by the way. Grace knows about me. Rachel insisted on telling her, and I couldn't object. I think she was hoping that Grace would disown me for lying to her, but she thinks it's 'too cool for school' that her dad's a secret agent. Not that she can tell anyone that, but that doesn't seem to matter to her."

"That's gotta be rough," Steve says, wincing. "But at least she's still in your life." He pauses then, as if trying to decide whether to ask the next question. Danny makes a _go on_ gesture, so Steve gives voice to his question. "Your parents?"

"Ed Williams is a retired CIA handler," Danny says. "He and Clara posed as my parents when he took me on as his asset."

"What about your real parents?" And of course Steve has to ask that question.

"My real parents were killed in a car crash when I was a teenager." Danny takes a deep breath. "I've been an orphan since the age of 15."

Steve doesn't comment for a few long minutes, and when he does, his voice is quiet. "I get what you meant before. When you said you fit the qualifications. They look for orphans, don't they? People no one would miss if they disappeared or died."

"Yeah," Danny says on a sigh. He still misses his parents fiercely, even after all these years. "Eddie and Clara basically adopted me the moment I was assigned to him. They're the only grandparents Gracie has ever known, and they adore her as if she were their own."

"So what are you doing in Hawai'i, Danny?"

"Stanley Edwards," Danny says, with all the venom he can muster. "The man's a 'facilitator'; a money-launderer. He's worked with known terrorists all over the world, discreetly, so no one's been able to pin anything on him. Since he married my ex-wife, I was the one they sent to flip him. He's my informant now."

"Do you think he's involved with our investigation?" Steve asks.

It's something Danny mulled over the whole car ride to Steve's house. He doesn't think Stan would be that stupid to get in the middle of a turf war with a bunch of gun runners, but if there's money to be made, Stan's the man.

"I honestly don't know, and that's not good," Danny says. "If he is, we may not be able to touch him. And if he's not, it may not matter. Once we capture Steckler, he may implicate Stan if he thinks it'll give him an out. For right now, my people would rather Stan stay right where he is."

"He's more useful doing what he does than he is in a jail cell," Steve says. Danny smirks, drawing an answering smirk out of Steve. "I get it; I just don't have to like it."

They fall into silence then, just the sound of the waves to accompany their breathing. Danny watches Steve watch the surf. He's wearing that contemplative look, the one that says he's got too much to think about and no clear answers. Danny wishes he could give his friend more, but honestly, the less he knows the better. Too many good men and women have died because secrets that should stay secret find the light of day.

"Look, Steve—"

"It's okay, Danny," Steve says, ghosting a smile at him. "I promise I won't breathe a word about this to anyone."

"Thank you," Danny says. The relief floods through him, along with a bit of chagrin. He should have known Steve would get it. "So, are we good?"

Steve looks at him for the space of a few heartbeats before nodding. "We're good."

"Good."

They go back to watching the sun set and the moon rise, and if Danny doesn't feel better, he at least feels as though he's settled something. It means a lot that Steve hasn't exploded at him or yelled or worse yet, fired him. All of which he may do tomorrow morning when he's had time to digest what Danny's told him. But for right now, things are okay, and that's good enough for Danny.

~o~

The next morning dawns bright and clear—just like every other morning in the islands, much to Danny's eternal consternation. A little late-night sleuthing had netted the team the hotel where Steckler had set up shop. True to form, the man had gone out and picked up a beautifully exotic companion for the evening, and Chin and Kono had followed them back to Steckler's hotel.

Now, they're waiting outside an abandoned warehouse near the port. Steckler had entered some minutes ago, followed not long after by a group of SUVs, presumably carrying his clients for the day.

Steve—who could liven up any perfectly normal raid with the liberal application of grenades and guns—is kitted out in full tac gear, itchy trigger finger occasionally drifting to the trigger on his gun as he waits for the opportune moment to breach the warehouse and take down their suspect and whoever else might be in there with him.

"Will you relax," Danny says, giving his partner the stink-eye. "The last thing I want is for you to shoot me in the ass because you couldn't wait until our perps are in sight. Not that I want you to shoot them, either. No shooting, okay Rambo?"

Steve grins at him, and it's all so normal, with the full Jersey accent back in place and the lecture on proper procedure, that he nearly sighs with relief. Chin just grins at them, and Kono's stifling a laugh, but whatever. Yesterday, he'd thought it had all been ruined. Today, he knows his team has his back, even if he hasn't yet explained it to two of them.

"Relax, D," Steve says, dragging his attention back to the here and now. "We've got this."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Danny grumbles. He frowns and shifts his position at Steve's back to cover his own abject relief, but not before Kono catches his expression and winks at him.

He rolls his eyes, but anything he might have said is drowned out when the HPD officer manning the surveillance van gives them the go-ahead.

Steve barely waits for the words to finish echoing in his ears before he's breached the door and is shouting at a room full of men with guns.

There are shots fired, because of course there are shots fired. Danny's life would be infinitely simpler if the bad guys didn't shoot at his partner, because said partner actually likes shooting back. But today, he's going non-lethal with his shots, something for which Danny is grateful, because that means they'll actually have someone to interrogate at the end of it all.

"Danny!" Danny snaps his head around at the sound of Steve's shout. "Steckler! He's making a break!"

Danny's eyes track the back of the warehouse, and he sees Steckler headed for the door at the back of the room. Letting him get away, when this whole party was about capturing him, is not on the agenda. Danny breaks into a run, catching the man before he can reach for the doorknob. Steckler fights back, getting in a few good shots before Danny's superior training takes hold.

Within seconds, Danny's got Steckler face-down on the concrete, arms held securely behind his back as he secures him with zip ties.

"Not getting out of this one, you bloody bastard," Danny murmurs into his ear, his natural accent bleeding through.

Steckler twists to stare at him, but Danny just smirks and hauls him to his feet. "Come on. I have no idea why you picked this island to start your one man crime spree, but you picked the wrong place to set up shop, buster."

And just like that, Jersey is back and Danny is dragging the man—now sputtering about jurisdiction and the Geneva convention or some other such bullshit—towards the rest of his team.

Steve must have heard more than a little of Steckler's rant, because he punches the guy, bloodying his nose and sending him tumbling into Danny's arms, only barely conscious.

"What the hell was that for, huh?" Danny shouts. "He's cuffed! He's not going anywhere, you Neanderthal!"

Steve shrugs. "Got sick of his chatter. Come on. Let's get these guys back to the Palace. I'm betting they'll have a helluva story to tell."

Danny just stands there staring at his partner before he shakes his head and follows. He will never understand Steve McGarrett as long as he lives, which may not be that much longer if the man in question keeps going as he has been.

~o~

Three days later, they've handed the perps over to HPD, and Steckler is on his way back to Europe courtesy of an Interpol warrant. Steve hadn't liked it—the man had killed people on Hawai'ian soil, but Steckler isn't the sort of criminal you really want in your prison. Whatever happens to him now, he's never seeing the light of day again. Danny's pleased about that, even if it did come at the expense of his cover.

As promised, he'd sat Chin and Kono down and given them the massively edited version of his life's story. They'd both been surprised but incredibly understanding, and had promised to keep his secret safe. He's more grateful than he's ever been that these people are his friends. It's even made him consider retiring to the islands when he's finally ready to give up the life. Maybe even become Danny Williams, Detective and New Jersey native for real. Or, at least as real as a cover identity can be when you're actually living the cover.

Now, it's just the paperwork, and while it's his least favorite part of the job, Danny's doing his willingly because even if this second chance comes with paperwork, he'll take it. He just wishes it didn't come with Steve's paperwork, too.

A rap on his door makes him look up to find Kono poking her head in, a concerned look on her face. "Danny, you've got a visitor."

It's Danny's turn to frown as he rises and heads out to the bullpen. He stops short when he spots none other than Bill Tanner standing next to Chin at the main tech board, chatting amiably.

Danny clears his throat. "Um, sir? Can I help you?"

Tanner turns around and smiles at him. "Daniel, good to see you."

He holds out his hand, which Danny shakes somewhat on autopilot. "You too, sir. Is there something I can help you with?"

Tanner smirks, as if he knows his mere presence here is sending up all sorts of red flags for Danny. "You have a good team here, Daniel. I was impressed that you were able to arrest Steckler with a minimum of fuss."

"Yes, well," Danny says, all kinds of flustered. He rubs the back of his neck, not entirely sure what he's supposed to do with his boss's Chief of Staff, standing in the middle of his cover. "We get the job done. Sometimes with a minimum of blood-spillage."

His gaze darts to Steve, who's stepped out of his office to listen. He gives a minute shrug, which gets nothing out of Steve. He's wearing his _Stone Cold Sober and Pissed as Hell_ face, like Tanner's very presence on the island is an affront to his person. Tanner's no better, wearing a poker face that would impress even the most skilled player. Whatever he's here for, he's not giving anything away.

Danny sighs. Looks like he's going to have to be the civilized one. "Bill Tanner, my boss, Commander Steven McGarrett, and the other two members of our Task Force, Lieutenant Chin Ho Kelly and Officer Kono Kalakaua."

There are handshakes all around, but at the end of it, Tanner's still looking at him like he's a bug under a microscope. It's deeply unsettling, and Danny can't shake the feeling that he's about to be recalled, like Tanner knows he's blown his cover and everyone in this room knows who he is now.

"I realize that chasing down Steckler has likely forced you to reveal certain information that has been heretofore kept quiet," Tanner says, and Danny thinks this is it. "Who else knows, besides the other three members of your Task Force?"

"Just them," Danny says, waving his hands at his friends and teammates. He's pretty sure this is it.

But then Tanner surprises him. "I've recommended to M that we leave you in place. Providing your team has no objections?"

He glances at his teammates, who are all grinning like loons. It's Steve, though, who speaks for the group. "Danny's explained why he's here. We're all good with it."

Tanner nods. "I see. Well, that job is nowhere near completed. It is our recommendation that Daniel remain in Hawai'i to continue his monitoring of Stanley Edwards. He has business interests that we'd like to be kept abreast of. Should the need arise, you are free to call on us for any assistance with regard to this issue."

"Thank you, sir," Steve says, nodding solemnly. His eyes are round like saucers, though, giving lie to his calm outward demeanor. Steve's just as shocked as he is.

"Well, I must be off," Tanner says. Danny's nowhere near over his shock, but he shakes the proffered hand.

"Thank you, sir," he says, his clipped British tones once again making an appearance.

Tanner simply nods and gives him a knowing smile before taking his leave. Danny watches him go, still not quite able to believe what's just happened.

"Do they usually let you stay undercover when you're cover's been blown?" Kono asks what the rest of them are no doubt thinking.

"No, they don't," Danny says. "And I'd be suspicious of that, but clearly someone thought that leaving me here was torture enough for breaking protocol. I'm not sure whether to be angry or resigned."

Steve's face breaks out into the biggest grin he's ever seen as he slaps Danny on the shoulder. "Come on. I see a shrimp lunch in our future."

Chin shakes his head, but he's smiling too as he pats Danny's shoulder on his way past. Kono winks at him and links her arm through his. "I hope you brought your wallet, Danny. I think Steve's in the mood to celebrate."

Danny groans, rolling his eyes, but secretly he's pleased. As much as he hates to admit it, this place is home now, and there's nowhere else he'd rather be.

~Finis


End file.
